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What is she? Who is she? Few know the answer to the questions. She is a legend of the land. They come to see her, one by one. It is not because she is on display, nor because she is a national curiosity. Her beauty is renowned; her gentleness is whispered in every village. Most of the rumors are fabricated from bits of truth told by travelers.
The commoner thought is that she is a princess. In supplement to her royalty, she is a supposed fairy or mermaid. Some say she cannot walk. Others claim she flies when no one is watching. It is told that she can brighten or darken a room with but a blink of her eyes. Those who meet her return to their acquaintances poetic. They arrive home and try to recreate her face in paint or in words.

I dance among the curtains. I am in my own world. The pads beneath me are as feathers, and the fabric surrounding me as wisps of clouds. The delicate whiteness I wear as a dress flows like wind. My dark waves lay down my back, then fly behind me when I twirl. I spread my arms and laugh at the glory of the universe.
Through the sheets and scarves I play, growing closer to the arch I call Adventure. The notes of the harpist grow fainter. The trickle of a crystal spring reaches my ears. The ground under my feet becomes softer, lighter; almost airy. Whiteness is joined by blue, and blue is joined by silver, and silver by violet. I kneel next to my spring. From the air I grasp a bit of silver cloud. I mold the condensed water into a bowl in my hands. From the diamond trickle I catch a bit of liquid. I bring the blue, the silver, the white, and the clear to my mouth and I drink. The purest water runs down my throat. I close my eyes and feel refreshed.
My eyelids lift to reveal a bright display. The world beyond Adventure has become a backdrop of dark blue and purple. I am surrounded by lights of all colors. They wrap around me. A giggle escapes my lips. Pinpricks of white and yellow join the show. They cover me until I, too, am light. I join the dance. I glide around and around, my gown trailing behind with the lights which play off of it.
What is time? Here, it does not exist. I play and do not grow weary until the clouds themselves wrap around me and tug me away from the spring. Softness covers me and leads me through the arch and the curtains. It lays me near the other world and gathers under my head. My weaknesses have returned yet do not trouble me. The clouds become blankets. My hair spreads out from under my neck. I know it displays around me like the rays of the sun. My eyes are closed. I sense a water crystal being laid on each lid.